an old writer and his words

  • ON THIS NIGHT

    On this night the moon retreats from the sky, leaving the stars to play hide and seek behind broken clouds. The silence is enfolding, save for the whistle of a distant train traversing the city, and the whisper of the wind caressing the needles of the pine who answer wih a passionate moan.

    Lou Faber

  • THIS IS HOW WE MOURN

    This is how we mourn: we don’t berate the clouds for gathering, nor begrudge the rain’s ultimate descent. Our tears fall to the earth as well, and there are moments when we need the gray, moments when the sun would be an unwelcomed interloper. This is how we mourn: we wipe the walls clean of…

    Lou Faber

  • BORROWED LIGHT

    The gray, velvet curtain of clouds parted ever so briefly last night revealing a moon, growing more full of herself, as she peered out. I was there to see her, the form of smile shared between us despite the chill of the too winter-like spring. This morning the sad drooping daffodils said they saw her…

    Lou Faber

  • TWO SEASONS (HAIKU)

    Blue heron takes flight giant wings stir wispy clouds April emerges. December garden faceless Buddha loudly laughs wriggling toes in snow.

    Lou Faber

  • KANSAI

    I droplets torn from cloud bed cling to edges of windows wanting to grasp, torn free by wind they are pulled clawing backward. II over Osaka pillars of light rise up through holes in the cloudbank, it is gray rain puddling on tarmac built into the bay. III container ships draw fading wake lines on a…

    Lou Faber

  • BAREFOOT

    He says his favorite clouds all wear size seven shoes. He knows she believes she once saw a paisley rainbow and will never forget it. She wears size seven shoes and her tears can be torrential, yet they can still nurture the first flowers of spring. He imagines her a butterfly sitting on the back…

    Lou Faber